


Hello, Good-bye

by aksarah



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aksarah/pseuds/aksarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rainy day stories bring back painful memories for Rabbit of a time after the Great War. The Spine tells the band the story of what happened the day Rabbit did something foolish and the consequences of said action he still struggles with to this day. No pairings. AU-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story does contain Original Characters but none of them are paired with Existing Characters. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to revise this a skosh as I forgot that Hatchworth was vaulted in 1938. I had it in my head that it was much earlier, before WWI even! Hopefully I can change this without gumming up the works someday, but just assume that in this 'world' he went in c. 1910 or so. - aks

The rain came down in soft waves and occasionally the wind would twist it and pelt the windows of the dining room. Around the eastern end of a table long enough to seat twenty sat Michael, Steve, The Spine, Hatchworth and Rabbit. A pair of crystal chandeliers didn’t do much to help light the room, which was filled with grey, diffuse light from the tall western-facing windows. The humans had finished their lunch and empty plates were pushed aside, elbows on the table. To pass the time, the humans related rainy-day stories from their childhood and the robots listened attentively.

            “Ya know,” Steve yawned, leaning back in his chair, tipping it so it rocked back and forth. “I wonder what you guys were like when you were ‘kids’,” he said, as he made quote-marks in the air with his fingers.

            Michael laughed. “I don’t think they were ever kids, Steve,”

            “No,” he agreed. “They still _are_ kids!”

            Rabbit stopped using his hands as puppets, made an indignant face and sat up straighter in his chair. “I resemble that remark,” he said, mock-frowning.

            “You resemble a radiator,” Hatchworth joked, garnering him a smack on the arm. “Ow,” he said, chuckling.

            The Spine, who stood between Michael and Rabbit, said “If you’d like to see us as ‘kids’, we can show you.” He turned and sauntered into the next room.

            “Oh, goody, show and tell time!” Hatchworth cheered and clapped his hands softly.

            “Show and tell!” Rabbit cheered as well. His face contorted into a puzzled look. “Wait a sec, what’s The Spine g-g-gonna show?”

            In answer, the silver robot returned with a large, vintage, olive-green scrapbook in his arms. He rested it carefully on the table and gingerly opened it to the middle. The stiff, black pages were tattered and covered with small, black-and-white medium-format photos held in place with red, round-edged corners. Some of the photos had been removed. Some captions had been crossed out; the Walter children had apparently gotten to it over the years. A few captions were written in white below some images of the Steam Man Band performing in the 1910’s and 20’s looking much like they did today, but with differently-styled clothes.

            Steve laughed. “Yeah, that doesn’t look any different at all!”

            “Does so!” Rabbit cried. “I’m wearing a straw hat! See?” He pointed emphatically. “And The Jon is wearing linen pants, and The Spine has a p-p-panama hat. Pretty jazzy, Spine,” he teased.

            “Oh, what fun,” Hatchworth chimed. “It’s so neat to see these things that I’ve only ever heard about through the years.”

            “Huh?” Steve asked. “You were locked up all that time, right?”

Hatchworth turned to him. “I was “ _vaulted_ ”, thank you. Locked up is such a mean way of saying it, really, but I forgive you, Friend Steve. Yes, I heard about things because these kind fellows would visit me frequently and tell me all about what went on. Seeing these photos here,...” he said pointing and getting slightly distracted. “Oh my, is that the 1933 Expo in Chicago? Look at that, oh. It’s wonderful.” Rabbit stood to get a better look. He smiled on the picture fondly and nodded in agreement.

They turned the pages and told stories to Michael and Steve about the fun they had. Interspersed with automaton band photos were family pictures of young Walter children. “Now that,” Michael said, “that really makes me realize how old you guys are. Look at Wanda. Are those bloomers?” He indicated to a photo of her and her brother.

The Spine nodded. “Indeed they are. Super cute bloomers, too.” The image was half-hanging out of its red corners--one third of it appeared to have been cut out. There was no caption beneath it.

“That’s odd,” Hatchworth noted, lifting his head to look at the Spine and Rabbit, standing above him. “How come there are no pictures of dear, sweet, Little Melissa?”

Rabbit’s shoulders fell. The Spine’s mouth hung open and he shot a worried glance at his older brother. Too late. The cat was out of the bag. A black oil-tear landed on the table and Michael and Steve gasped. Rabbit put a hand to his cheek, almost as shocked as they were that he was crying. A look of panic crossed his face and distraught and silent, he turned on his heel and ran from the room. The Spine called after him, but he did not respond.

Hatchworth fretted, rubbing his hands and fidgeting, apologizing for whatever it was he said to offend, but The Spine put his hand on his shoulder and quieted him. The humans held their breath. “Don’t worry Hatchworth, it’s nothing you’ve done wrong. Rabbit’s just very sensitive, you know that.”

Michael stared at the photo of Mark and Wanda. “It’s about this Melissa, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Was she in this photo?”

The Spine heaved a sigh and steam exhaled from his vents. He turned a chair around and took a seat next to Hatchworth, across from Steve and Michael. “I suppose it’s too late to back-track now...” he gnashed his teeth and furrowed his brows at the scrapbook. “That’s was pretty foolish of me. I should have thought...” He shook his head. “No matter. What’s done is done. He’ll be alright soon. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

The three stared at him, waiting patiently until Steve slapped the table lightly. “Dang it, Spine, you gonna tell us or what?”

He glanced up and made sure he looked into the eyes of each man at the table. “I will, only because we are all his dearest friends--his family, and I think it’s alright, perhaps even important for you to know. But you must swear--swear now--that you will never mention this to Rabbit, ever. It’s very important. You saw how he was.”

“Oh my!” Hatchworth cried and gnawed on his sleeve. The Spine patted his shoulder.

“Do you swear?” All three promised him and he let another, smaller sigh escape. “Alright. I’ll tell you the story. It began before the first war, the Great War, they called it, because of it’s size.” He paused and shook his head slightly. “Just after the war broke out, a rift in the space-time continuum was detected in one of the lowest basement rooms...”

 

.x.

            Rabbit ran blindly down the hall, away from the dining room and toward the stairs. He took them three, four, even five at a time, his heavy footfalls echoing through the stairwell as he descended to the sixth basement floor--the lowest level. He shouldered the fire door open and stumbled through into the darkened corridor. Motion-sensor lights activated and dimly lit his way, not that he needed the illumination. He’d been here many times before and knew instinctively how many doors down and around what corner the room was. It was a good five minutes before he reached his destination in the sprawling lowest basement complex which housed the Walters’ most secretive experiments and projects. It was here that Hatchworth had remained in his vault for decades. It was here that the robots were constructed. It was here that Rabbit returned again and again whenever the memory reared its ugly head as it had done in the dining room.

            He slowed as he approached a steel door, padlocked shut and marked “Danger: Do Not Enter”. Overheated, Rabbit let out a large plume of steam that curled around the bare bulb over his head. He reached into an inside pocket of his vest and produced a large key. The key turned the lock’s tumblers and it snapped open, granting him access. A soft puff of dust billowed out when the door swung open, revealing an abandoned lab. Rabbit pushed an early-twentieth century lightswitch and a series of clear, incandescent bulbs in simple fixtures on the ceiling sprang to life, illuminating some empty work tables, a half-dozen chairs and an old blackboard on a wooden stand on the far side of the room. This was clearly heavily used in the past and traces of formulas and writing could still be seen on its greyed surface.

            Rabbit trudged in, retracing his own footprints and sat down heavily in one of the reinforced wooden chairs which complained under his weight. He sat, slumped, arms folded tightly, facing the southern wall, staring at it as if he were watching a tragedy unfold from its blank, grey, concrete surface. His tears started afresh and he whimpered slightly in the silence.

 

.x.

“The year was nineteen hundred and nineteen,” The Spine continued. “Col. Peter A. Walter III had just come back from the front lines with us and although he had a career as a military man in peacetime to look forward to, we robots were at a loss. His father, The First and his brother, The Second decided we should be recommissioned to suit our original purpose as singing automatons and all of our weaponry was removed. Although The Jon and I transitioned fairly well, (with Jon, most of the painful things in life were easily forgettable, I think) Rabbit just could not seem to get his spark lit. He was literally a shell of his former self. This practically broke the heart of our then one-and-only Walter Girl, Melissa and certainly pained The First, greatly.”

“Rabbit was in love with a Walter Girl?” Steve cried, astounded.

“Oh, no, no. Not _that_ Melissa...” The Spine groaned. “If you’re going to interrupt me, Steven...”

Steve knew when The Spine said his name like that he was serious. “Sorry. Right. I’ll be quiet. Not a peep.” He made a motion with his left hand as if turning a key between his lips.

The Spine gave him a wilting look before continuing. “Rabbit was and is a sensitive sort of robot and seeing such a huge loss of life for such a foolish reason was incredibly hard on him. He didn’t like to be around The Jon and I very much at that time because we reminded him of what we’d been through together. Even when we played lively songs and made people smile, he just went through the motions. At that time and for many years we didn’t write our own songs, only played the popular tunes of the day, just as our human counterparts did. They were all rather cheery and fun and although Rabbit sounded just fine, you could tell there was no joy in his singing.

“The only comfort Rabbit had was being with his ‘Pappy’. The First felt so badly for him, he allowed Rabbit to tag along practically wherever he went. He let him be his assistant, even though he had Melissa to help him with whatever he needed; he’d ask Rabbit to fetch him a sandwich or open doors or turn off the lights--anything to make him feel needed and wanted and to keep him busy. It must have been exhausting. So when this rift started opening in one of the basement labs, Rabbit was there.

“It happened incredibly quickly, opening and closing so fast it couldn’t be measured. For a while it seemed as if it were simply gaping open but The First dared not explore it. He studied it and took readings, trying to learn from it and also be on alert should anything emerge from it. As it started to slow down, The First realized that the rift was in fact opening for exactly one minute and closing again. Measurements were taken and a frequency was established. The duration between the events was increasing at exactly a factor of 42. When it stretched down to about an hour and a half between opening and closing, The First knew that the next time it opened would be in about three days. He marked the time and waited. He planned to send a non-sentient robot in to collect a sample and come back out in less than the minute it would be open. The next time it would be open after that wouldn’t be for another four months. When the rift opened again three days later, no one was prepared for what happened.”


	2. Chapter 2

1919...

The count-down clock on the wall ticked loudly in the stillness of the basement lab.  Facing this stood Peter A. Walter I, his assistant Melissa, and Rabbit. The automaton was silent. He balled his metal fists and stared at his creator. Rabbit was now twenty-four years old and his “Pappy” was shorter than he remembered. He was greyer and his skin was wrinklier. He was not an old man by any estimation, but Rabbit couldn’t help but notice the march of time expressing itself on his body. He raised his own left arm and observed it. He wore a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his gangly metal forearms appeared weak and frail. His khaki dungarees were held up with red suspenders and a black pork pie hat covered his copper dome. He pulled the brim of this down a little and focused on the clock on the wall. Three minutes and counting. Peter Walter said something to Melissa but Rabbit didn’t hear it. An idea struck him rather suddenly and threw his concentration off. Usually, when something absurd would interrupt his normal train of thought it would make him laugh or react in an erratic manner. Today, it made him frown and ball his hands up into tight knots of determination, much like he did when readying to leap from a foxhole, knowing full well his impervious frame would be shot dozens of times as he was ordered out onto the battlefield.

The rift made a soft crackling sound as it opened, a sliver at first and a millisecond later it gaped open, about four feet tall and ovid, hovering about three inches from the concrete block wall on the southern side of the room. A sound like distant wind through the trees issued from the void. A small remote-controlled robot with triangularly configured tank-treads hummed at the ready at the inventor’s feet. “Now...” Peter Walter began, and held the controller up, just about to send it forward into the rift.

            “Pappy,” Rabbit said quietly. “I can do a better job than this little thing.” He stepped forward. Time seemed to slow down. Peter Walter let the remote drop and stepped forward as his first automaton strode past him, his head ducking to fit into the short portal.

“Rabbit! No! What are you...?”

            Peter Walter’s voice was lost as Rabbit became completely engulfed in the blue glow. He plodded ahead toward a dark area before him. In under a minute, the dark area grew larger as he grew closer to it and without hesitation, the brave robot stuck his head and shoulders through the back side of the rift and emerged on the other side.

 

.x.

            The room he stepped into was nearly identical to the one he had just left, save for the fact that the furniture, blackboard and equipment was on the opposite side and two people stood staring at Rabbit with wide eyes. Across from him stood a woman dressed in a long, white, five-gore skirt and blouse buttoned to her neck with white gloves and a pair of goggles on her head. To her right stood a slender copper automaton wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into a knee-length khaki skirt and a pair of black mary jane shoes on her metal feet, and a black cloche hat with a red ribbon on her head. The woman was ashen. She took a step forward and appeared unsteady. “Momma!” the automaton in the skirt cried and caught her as she fell. Once she was secure, the robot lifted its head and stared at Rabbit with mis-matched green and blue eyes.

            “Robert...” the woman whispered. “Oh, dear God what have you done...?” Her gaze focused and she regained her footing, nodding appreciatively to her robot assistant. “Did you see him?” she asked Rabbit urgently. “Did you pass a man in the void?”

            “N-no...” Rabbit answered.

            Noticing the similarity between the two robots in the room, the woman looked from one to the other and chuckled softly in wonder. “I assume you’ve come from the other side. How odd that an automaton should replace our Robert.” She cleared her throat and with the ease of someone accustomed to dealing with strange things she relaxed and addressed the situation. “My name is Dr. Petra Ann Walter and this automaton is called Muffin.”

            Muffin curtseyed slightly and continued to stare at Rabbit.

            “Petra...” Rabbit repeated. “I’m called Rabbit. My pa... my creator is Col. Peter A. Walter.” He had meant to say ‘pappy’ as he was wont to do, but the familiarity of it seemed too distant at the very moment to be appropriate.

            Petra Walter laughed a dry but honest laugh and put her hands on her hips. “How interesting. A male version of me is sitting on the other side right now, I imagine trying to account for Robert just as we are trying to account for you, Rabbit.” She laughed again. “Rabbit. Robert. Interesting...” She walked to the blackboard and wrote his name with two underscores as well as notes about the time and other observances.

            Rabbit sighed and steam curled from his vents. Except for the genders being swapped and the fact that a human and not an automaton went through the rift, it seemed as though nothing was different. He slumped his shoulders and stared at the floor. “I’ve made a terrible mistake...” he whispered. A wave of shock coursed through his circuits as the robot called Muffin reached out and touched his hand. She closed it in hers and smiled on him as he raised his head with a perplexed look on his face.

            “It’s ok, Brother Rabbit,” she said in a voice with the same lilting tone as his, only a bit higher and sweeter. “We’ll t-t-t-take care of you.”

            Petra Walter replaced the chalk firmly in its wooden rack and spun around to face them. She grinned from ear to ear. “Indeed!” the scientist chimed. Behind her on the blackboard she had written ‘Rabbit’ and ‘Robert’ with great big circles around each name and a line that connected the two. “In just around four months’ time the rift will open again and according to my calculations it will connect our dimensions once more, allowing you to slip back to your world and for my assistant Robert to return to us. Until then,” she opened her arms wide. “Welcome to Walter Manor!”

 

.x. Present Day...

The humans were leaning forward across the table and Hatchworth gripped the lip of his chair expectantly, hanging on The Spine’s every word. “I know what happened, I remember this story, a little,” Hatchworth said.

The Spine took a long draught from a glass of water and nodded. “We told you some of it as I recall, but not what happened later. We all agreed for Rabbit’s sake to not mention it again.” He put the glass down gently and continued. “Later, Rabbit said he did what he did because he wasn’t thinking at all. He didn’t plan it, just rushed ahead and jumped into the four-foot glowing blue hole and out the other side as if it were nothing at all. The First exploded and tried to run after him but Melissa held him back. Then, just as the time was about to run out, a young man wearing black and blue emerged from the rift and it snapped shut behind him.”

“Whoa,” Michael whispered. “That sounds incredibly stupid.”

Steve shrugged. “That sounds incredibly _Rabbit_.”

The Spine nodded. “That was my thought. Especially knowing how troubled he had been, it made sense that Rabbit would do something utterly reckless. He was gone without a trace and in his place was this blue haired young man. He told us his name was Robert and that he was a Walter Boy.”

“Whaaaaaat?” Steve leaned across the table on his folded arms. “Walter _Boy_?”

“As it turned out, Robert was from an alternate universe where Petra Walter was the brilliant mind behind Walter Robotics and her automatons were three girl singers called Muffin, The Bea and The Curve. At the time, Robert was the only Walter Boy. The First was furious with Rabbit and didn’t take kindly to Robert, at least, at initially. When he discovered that he was just as handy as Melissa, he softened a bit. The rest of us, however, kept our distance. It was eerie to be around him. He was upbeat and charming but whenever we saw him we were reminded that Rabbit was gone.

“The First made a countdown clock with alarms all over the house for when the portal would open again in four months’ time. I remember when the twenty-four hour chime sounded--The Jon and I were ecstatic. We spent the entire day in that basement room, waiting for the moment when we’d get our brother back.”

 

.x. 1919...

The manor looked the same, smelled the same (to a point) and felt the same. It had the same curtains, carpets, layout, all save the fact that everything was flipped as if mirrored; south was north, left was right. It took Rabbit about a week to get used to this difference, often taking the wrong turn to get back to his guest room and ending up in the library. It took longer to get used to the manor’s inhabitants. After enduring a year of post-war tight-lipped tension in his own Walter Manor, Rabbit was dumbstruck by the brightness and joy exhibited daily by this gender-swapped dimension’s counterparts. Petra laughed, a lot. She checked in on her girls at least once a day, often taking a meal with them, something Peter Walter never thought to do. The girl robots would drink water as she ate and they would chat about everything and anything that came to mind.

One sunny afternoon Rabbit watched the three automatons rehearse for their next performance. Muffin, his dimensional counterpart, insisted he join them but Rabbit begged off, claiming that he would just muck up their harmonies. Muffin’s younger sisters were a tall, cool silver robot with wide hips called The Curve and a smaller, enthusiastic gold robot with curly brown hair called The Bea (which Rabbit understood was short of Beatrice, though no one ever called her that). Watching them sing the current popular songs of the day like "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate" and “The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise” made his gears churn with homesickness, but their performance was wonderful and he couldn’t help but stay and listen. When practice was over and before the girls could ask Rabbit to socialize with them some more he jumped up from his seat on the floor and quickly asked where their creator was at the moment.

The Curve swiveled her head to observe weather conditions outside. A few white clouds dotted the blue California sky. “Oh, she’s probably out in garden, I imagine.”

“Garden?” Rabbit wondered and they explained that there were several gardens surrounding the manor in which the inventor raised rare and exotic plants for various purposes. He thanked them and went in search of Petra Walter.

 

.x.

He found her on the south side of the manor wearing garden gloves, a blue-and-black plaid work shirt and a pair of grey dungarees. She was covered in dirt and humming happily to herself as she pulled weeds from between rows of strange-looking plants. Some had deep violet leaves and intimidating-looking berries. Some bore thorns and others tendrils that snaked around latticework looking more like sea creatures than plants. There were small, brass signs stuck in the ground giving the Latin name for each specimen, but they were unfamiliar to him.

Rabbit clicked and hissed, alerting her to his presence. “Excuse me, Mrs. Walter?”

“Oh, good afternoon, Rabbit!” Petra chimed. “Did you hear the girls’ practice today?”

“I did, ma’am.”

“And so...” she said, climbing out from underneath an impressively large rhubarb. “What did you think? Anything like what you boys do?”

“They’re lovely,” he agreed, purposefully leaving it at that.

Petra frowned slightly and removed her gloves. “Rabbit, come. Walk with me,” she ordered, tossing the gloves into a tin bucket that also held a trowel and shears on her way out of the large, strange garden.

“Yes, ma’am, “ Rabbit said quietly and followed her. When she stopped suddenly, he stopped just behind her.

“Rabbit?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“I said _with_ me, not _behind_ me, dear.” Without turning, she pointed to the ground to her left then crooked her elbow, expectantly.

Rabbit clenched his fists briefly before stepping up to her side. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again.

“And call me Petra. I am neither a Mrs. nor a ma’am.”

“Yes... Petra,” he said, nervously. When she didn’t take a step forward Rabbit looked over at the scientist. She was tall for a woman, though not as tall as Peter Walter and to his surprise, she was smiling at him.

“Rabbit, it’s alright. I’m not sure what your relationship with your creator is, but you’ve seen me with my girls. I’m not scary, am I?”

Steam hissed, expressing his embarrassment. “No! Y-y-you’re not scary, I’m just...” The automaton pouted and clammed up.

Petra nodded her head. “Right. Let’s walk, shall we?” She wiggled her elbow at him and gingerly, Rabbit laced his arm through hers. They walked around the manor grounds together at a slow stroll. After a few minutes, Rabbit began to relax. The warm sun on his copper face, the scent of whatever dark, purple flowering shrubs they passed, and the steady, measured pace of their footsteps calmed him.

Petra noticed his mouth slide as his jaw relaxed. “What’s he like? Your Peter Walter? You said when you first arrived that I was just like him. I just can’t imagine it! Me, a man!” she laughed.

“I was wrong,” he said quietly. “You’re nothing like him.”

“Oh?” she said, grinning.

“No. You garden. You laugh. You... I don’t know. You’re just different.”

“Is it because I’m female?”

“Probably? I’m not sure. I think it’s deeper than that.”

“Does Peter have any children? Besides you automatons, that is?”

Rabbit had to smile at that. Yes, the robots were his children, weren’t they? “Yeah, he’s got two sons, Peter II and Peter III.”

Petra didn’t have a comment to that, she simply paused a beat then laughed at how ridiculous it sounded to name one’s children the same name. “I don’t have any children,” Petra said when she had expended her giggles. “Never had time, I suppose. The girls are all I have and they are everything to me. I imagine that perhaps because Peter has his human sons he treats you differently than I treat my girls...”

“Oh, no, I don’t think that’s it, I...” Rabbit began quickly, but realized too late that she’d managed to tease information out of him. “I just...”

Petra stopped walking in front of a wrought-iron bench under the shade of an aspen tree. Its leaves fluttered on the light breeze, dappling the sunlight. She pulled Rabbit toward it and they took a seat. Petra took his gloved, metal right hand in her left, pulled it into her lap and covered it with her right. She smiled on him and he released a loud, steamy sigh. “Maybe it _is_ because you’re female,” he admitted.

“I had a father, so I know something about how differently fathers and mothers behave toward their children. Fathers love their children just as much as mothers do, they just show it in different ways. I tend to gush over my girls; I can’t help it. But my father stood at arm’s length, gave  few words of praise or admonition and left me to my own devices. Heaven forbid if there was some strife I needed to work through!” she laughed. “He’d be long gone!”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Men tend to be very quiet. They don’t want to show any weakness to anyone, especially to those who rely on their strength, like their own own family, for example. So rather than risk it, they avoid speaking altogether!”

Rabbit hung his head a little. “Yeah. That’s true.” Petra patted his hand comfortingly. “I never realized men and women were so different,” he said, quietly. “Maybe that’s why Muffin and them are so different than us.”

Petra raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Well, they didn’t have to...” His next thought made him tremble, but he glanced over and saw Petra’s soft, caring smile and arched eyebrows looking on him with utter compassion and patience and he caved. “Muffin is really nice but she’s really different than me because she didn’t have to fight in the war.”

Petra gave him a baffled look. “That’s absurd. Who would put a singing automaton into that horrific...” Rabbit’s gears whirred in panic, but he forced himself to remain seated. “Oh...” Petra gasped and clutched his hand tightly. “Oh, you poor dear child!” Tears sprang to her eyes and her horror and pity passed very quickly to anger. “Who would do such a... Did my counterpart do that to you?” she shouted.

“No! No, not really... he...” Rabbit choked. “He didn’t want us to go, but he allowed it. And we agreed to go. The army wanted... we had... there was s-s-s-so m-m-much...” Oil rolled down his shining copper cheeks. Regardless of how hard, cold and sharp he was, Petra Walter put her arms around the robot and pulled him close to her. Rabbit went limp, rested his head on her shoulder and wept, staining her plaid work shirt. She rocked him gently in her arms like a child. She didn’t say it would be ok, she didn’t shush him or tell him to chin up, she simply allowed him to feel and although his wet, cold heart felt like it was going snap in half, to Rabbit, the release was euphoric.

 

.x.

A long while later, the sun had inched down in the sky behind them making long shadows on the lawn. Petra shivered involuntarily in the chill and Rabbit lifted his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but she shook her head.

“Do you feel better?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand.. He nodded. “Good. Rabbit, I know there are a lot of things that must have been very painful for you to go through. When these memories arise, don’t suppress them--acknowledge them. Shed a tear. Gnash your teeth. It’s normal. Then remember happier times in days past, and those to come in days ahead. Life cannot be lived as if in a dream where nothing ever goes wrong. Without sadness, how would we ever know when we were happy?”

Rabbit gave her a confused look. She pulled a ratty handkerchief from her pants pocket and wiped the black tears from his face. “Muffin, The Curve and The Bea were created the same way--to be able to interact with humans. It’s just part of the deal, I’m afraid. You’ll just have to put up with it. If you ever need to talk, dear boy, I am here.” She stood, bowed, removed his pork-pie hat and kissed the top of his copper skull before turning and walking slowly back to the manor house.

Rabbit sat for a long while on the bench under the aspen and watched the last yellow rays of light play amongst the leaves. After the sun had set, he hefted himself to his feet, worked out the kinks from sitting too long that had started to seize him up a bit and ambled back to the manor while singing a little tune.

_“The colonel got the Croix de Guerr, Parrrr-leyvoo. The colonel got the Croix de Guerr, Parrrr-ley voo. The colonel got the Croix de Guerr--the sunofagun was never there! Hinky, Dinky Par-ley-voo.”_


	3. Chapter 3

1919...

            When he first arrived, Rabbit had feared that the four months until the next portal opening would pass so slowly as to be agonizing for him. Now, as he stood in the basement room and watched the clock count down, he wondered where the time had gone. The singing automaton ladies and Dr. Petra Walter stood by at the ready. Poor Bea sniffled uncontrollably and Curve hugged her. Muffin fidgeted and tried to pretend that she wasn’t sad for the benefit for everyone in the room. Petra was busy making notes on the blackboard as she took readings from various pieces of equipment that measured conditions surrounding the impending rift.

            With just five minutes remaining she rested her chalk and turned to face them. She was tired but smiled placidly as she met Rabbit’s eyes. “Almost time,” she said. “Are you ready?”

            He nodded quickly. “I’m torn,” he said. “I want to go, and I don’t want to go.”

            The Bea took a deep breath and bawled loudly now, steam and oil spurting out. The Curve leaned back but could not break her grip as she was drenched in it.

            Muffin nodded. “Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly it. I d-d-don’t want you to go, but I want you to be back with The Spine and The Jon--your brothers. If we feel this way, they must be missing you so terribly!”

            Rabbit stepped toward them and opened his arms. The four automatons shared a tight group-hug. “Whenever I hear the songs you’ve sung for me,” he said. “I’ll hear only your sweet voices.”

            All three lady robots sniffled and released him. He turned to the scientist.

            “Momma,” Rabbit whispered.

            “Be brave,” she said, straightening his hat and rubbing a bit of grime from his copper face with her thumb. “And give everyone our love.”

            “I’ll miss you, Momma,” he said, holding back his tears. “I’ll never forget you.”

            “Rabbit...” Petra Walter blushed. “Would you mind terribly if I...” She shook her head and composed herself. “I want to make a boy robot to remember you by. Would that be alright with you?”

            Rabbit’s eyes went wide and he smiled. “I would be most honored,” He said and bowed to her slightly. She gave him a quick, but firm hug.

“I never thought I wanted a boy until I met you,” she whispered, releasing him. “It’s time,” she said, and pushed him gently toward the emergence point. The clock chimed, the rift crackled and with a glance over his shoulder to give his other-world family a thumbs-up, Rabbit jumped into the blue glow.

 

.x. Present Day...

“As the time grew near,” The Spine continued, “we were joined by Robert and Melissa. Because we’d kept our distance from Robert for the last four months, we really had no idea what was going on between them. As it turned out, the two Walter-assistants had fallen in love. Robert insisted that he had to return to his own dimension--that he didn’t belong here and his presence was upsetting the order of things in the manor. I had to cover The Jon’s mouth as he tried to vociferously agree. Melissa was in tears. She made a brave attempt to hide them from Peter Walter the First and the Second as they entered the room, but I’m sure they noticed. The alarms went off, the rift opened, Robert saluted us, thanked us, and jumped in.

The Spine smiled. “I don’t remember ever feeling more relieved than when I saw Rabbit hop back out of the rift. He came bounding through, taking huge strides and nearly ran into us with a look of steely determination on his face. As soon as he saw that we were all assembled to greet him, Rabbit smiled wide and called our names and we all cheered and made a fuss over him. As I recall, The Jon latched on to Rabbit’s neck and would not let go of him for several hours. Rabbit was back--what a relief that was to all of us! All of us, except Melissa, however, who sat in a chair toward the back of the room and held her face in her hands.” The Spine frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “When we started playing for audiences again it was like we had the old Rabbit back. He was engaged, energized and best of all, happy.”

Michael cleared his throat. “This is where the other shoe drops,” he said.

“Indeed.” The Spine nodded. “But not for Rabbit. Not yet. When the rift closed, The First reset the timer for fourteen years, the next factor of 42 between open and close, and sealed the room in the basement where it had always appeared. Melissa was beside herself and after that rarely spoke. We saw her only in her official capacity; otherwise, we understood, she was holed up in her room and cried every night, missing her Walter Boy.

“So sad!” Hatchworth cried.

“Until one day, she left the manor and didn’t return.”

Michael folded his arms. “Was the contract the same then as it is now?”

“Contract?” Steve asked.

“Yes, Michael,” The Spine nodded. “Steve, the saying goes, ‘Once a Walter Girl, always a Walter Girl’, so you can imagine that a thorough search was conducted. This was before even Walter Robotics had developed any sort of remote tracking devices so we canvassed the city for days before we found her in a downtown San Diego boarding house and brought her back to the manor. The First was greatly agitated by this and had been contemplating what sort of disciplinary measures should be taken, when she confessed that she was expecting a child.”

“Whoa!” All three exclaimed. Hatchworth muttered something to the effect that he already knew that.

“I’m sorry this is such a long story, but if you’re going to know it, you need to know all of it.” The spine turned the scrap book around so that it better faced Steve, Michael and Hatchworth. “That baby was Little Melissa,” he said, pointing to the void next to Wanda and Mark. “She was born in 1920 and would have been about eight or nine when this photo was taken.”

Hatchworth touched the spot. “What did she look like?”

The Spine smiled. “She was very pale but had rosy cheeks and fingers. Her hair was bright blue. The First said that was because she was the child of two fully-acclimated Walter assistants. Like Peter Walter’s own children, she too was born with an affinity for Blue Matter.”

“Ya know,” Steve said, pointing to the children. “They’re pretty close together, but it looks like there’s big gap between them and this Melissa.”

“Hm,” The Spine frowned. “You may be right. The Walter children and their mother did not care for the poor girl. You see, when she was born, her own mother’s life was lost.”

“Oh, I knew that, too!” Hatchworth cried, excited to remember things told to him so many years ago. “So sad. She was all alone.”

“The First and Second didn’t have time for a baby and their wives did what they could to help, but only at arm’s length. Whether they were afraid of the child or not, I’m not sure, though it would be a better explanation than simply being callous towards her. If it weren’t for Rabbit, I think the poor girl wouldn’t have had a very good life.”

The Spine rested his chin in his palm and sighed lightly. “From the very first moment he laid eyes on that baby girl, he was taken in. She had these shining black eyes that locked on him. Melissa was named for her mother and was the happiest baby I’ve ever seen in this house. The Second and Third had been fussy and spoiled even when they _weren’t_ up to no good and we robots kept our distance from them until they were old enough to take ‘no’ for an answer. Mark and Wanda weren’t much better. Melissa, on the other hand was quiet and thoughtful and soon she realized that we automatons gave her more consideration than the other humans in the house did. The Jon and Rabbit were always playing with her or taking her to the park, but Jon was capricious and not as devoted to the little girl as Rabbit was. He even helped educate her about robotics and Blue Matter. We were all convinced that she would be a great scientist one day; even at ten years old, she was able to solve very complex problems and to build her own rudimentary robots.

Steve folded his arms. “But since we’ve never heard of her before...” he muttered.

Michael nodded. “I don’t like where this is headed.”

“As I said,” The Spine raised his brows and sat up straight. “She was a happy child, but shortly after her twelfth birthday, that changed.”

 

.x. 1932...

            Rabbit hummed an upbeat tune to himself as he loped down the hall toward his room. The other two members of the steam man band were waiting for him in the practice space on the third floor. Now that they had started to write their own songs for the first time, they had just learned that they would be featured performers in the 1933 Chicago Exposition. “So exciting!” Rabbit piped to himself as he opened his door. “Now, what did I do with that accordina?” The room was large and the decor was dark, dusty and cluttered. He started pulling clothes and instruments from the floor searching for the small, accordion-like instrument.

            A movement from his bed drew his attention and he froze in place. A tuft of straight blue hair stuck out from tightly-tucked covers. Rabbit smiled and went about his search quietly so as not to disturb her. Moments later he put his hand on the accordina and was turning to leave but was interrupted again when he heard her sniffle. He spun and called her name softly, asking if she was alright.

            “No...” a small, muffled voice whined from the covers. Rabbit hopped over a couple of piles and seated himself on the edge of the bed. He peeled the covers back to reveal her tear-stained face.

            “Aw, Honey, what’s wrong?” he cooed.

            “Mark was teasing me,” the twelve-year-old said and slowly sat up, hugging the comforter around her and staring at the messy floor. She was dressed in a Walter-Girl white pinafore and her hair was cut short just under her chin but was unkempt and mussed. Her large, black eyes were red-rimmed.

            “Don’t let him get at you, now. You know he’s just a little boy...” Rabbit fussed with her hair, brushing it back in place with his fingers.

            “He called me a filthy orphan!”

            Rabbit winced. “Oh, Honey...”

            She looked up into his mis-matched photoreceptors and blurted, “Why don’t I have a mom and dad like Mark and Wanda do?”

            Rabbit recoiled as if she had struck him. “Well... Er... Th-th-that’s...” he stammered.

            Realizing she had hurt him with her words, Melissa cried and threw her arms around the robot. “Oh, Pappy-Rabbit, I didn’t mean that you’re not my Pappy!”

            Steam hissed from his vents and he hugged her back. “It’s ok, I know why you said it. I might love you to pieces, but I’ll never replace your human father.”

            She calmed down and released him, sitting quietly beside him. Rabbit squeezed her shoulder gently. “Did you know them?” she asked.

            More steam curled out. “Well, I don’t know if you’re old enough to...”

            Melissa looked up, pleadingly at him. “If I’m old enough to be sad about not knowing, don’t you think I’m old enough to know about them?”

            He had to agree with that. “Well, I’m not sure knowing is gonna make you any happier...” he said, grimacing. “It’s not a happy story.” Her stare melted his resolve. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you.” Something in the way she straightened up and looked so seriously at him made Rabbit intensely sad and he knew that once she learned the truth, nothing would ever be the same. They had warned him, when she was just a baby, that if he got attached to her she’d break his heart. She’d mature, and change, and one day she would grow old and die. At the time, he’d ignored them. She was a treasure to him: the only connection to the world on the other side of the rift that had brought him so much joy and comfort. Calmly, slowly, and with the utmost respect, Rabbit told her the truth about her mother and father and about the tear in space-time that had brought them together. He explained what the robots on the other side were like and about Petra Walter. He made certain to include as many happy details as he could to overshadow the fact that her mother was dead and her father was gone forever.

            When he finished, they sat very still for a while in the silence. Finally, Melissa looked up and smiled faintly at him. “Thank you,” she said.

            “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here,” Rabbit said, echoing Petra Walter’s words to him.

            “I will.” Looking rather mature for her twelve years, Melissa got up, went to the door and looked back over her shoulder. “I love you, Pappy-Rabbit,” she said, smiled and let herself out.

            The automaton picked the accordina back up and played a few notes of the perky tune he’d been humming in the hall then sang a verse.

            _“When I met you on your first day, you made me happy in every way. Oh, you did, yes you did._

_With your first word, you said my name. Inside my circuits, you kindled a flame. Oh, you did..._

_Oh, Honey you’ve just got to know (that you) won’t have to live your life alone. (Well I) was waiting for you all my life... Oh... My..._

_It’s you and me, my Honey-Bee. Honey Bee!”_

Grinning wide, Rabbit sprang to his feet. “Perfect!” he crowed and headed back to the practice room. “Now, back to work! She’s gonna _love_ it!”


	4. Chapter 4

Present Day...

“In 1933 P. A. Walter’s Steam Man Band was invited to perform at the Chicago World’s Fair.” The Spine turned the pages of the scrapbook forward and pointed to some of the images from that year. One of them was marked “1932” and was torn--only The Spine and The Jon remained. There were crayon drawings surrounding and even over some of the other images and the bottom corner of one page was torn out completely. “It was a happy time, even though the economy wasn’t stellar and technology was changing people’s lives, sometimes not for the better. People came out in droves to see the wonders of the Expo and in the two years it was open nearly 50,000,000 people attended--many of whom watched us play! We had a few of our own songs by then like Captain and Rex Marksley and Rabbit had written a special song just for his “daughter” Melissa. Does anyone know what Melissa means in greek?” he asked his audience of three.

“Oh! I know!” Hatchworth raised his right hand so high he had to support it with his left.

“I know you know, Hatchworth, why don’t you give someone else a try?”

“Sorry.”

Steve and Michael shrugged and The Spine rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hatchworth?”

“Oh! It means Honey Bee!”

“Ohhhh...” Steve said, rubbing his chin.

“Oh man...” Michael groaned. “So the song is about...”

The Spine nodded and continued. “Just before we left for the World’s Fair, Melissa came down with a stomach bug and couldn’t come with us. We were to play for a month then return to San Diego for tune-ups before the next stint. Rabbit was upset because he wanted her to hear it when it was performed for the first time, but we managed to talk him into having a special performance just for her when we got back.

“Fresh off the train, without bothering to speak to anyone, Rabbit ran in the front door, calling for Melissa. He searched for her all over the manor before The First and I found him and stopped him.”

 

.x. 1933

            Rabbit returned to the lobby, panting lightly, steam puffing, having run through much of the manor in search of his daughter. Peter Walter I stood by the door between him and The Spine.

“Rabbit,” his creator breathed his name in such a way that it made Rabbit shudder.

            “Yeah, Pappy?”

            “It’s about Melissa...”

            The Spine raised a brow and watched his older brother carefully.

            Rabbit lowered his chin and looked into The First’s eyes. “What about her...?” he asked gravely.

            “Three weeks ago... was the fourteen-year mark,” he said.

            Rabbit’s eyes widened and without another word he pivoted and sprinted to the stairs, Peter Walter shouting behind him, repeating that it was three weeks ago. The Spine didn’t hesitate, he touched his creator’s shoulder as if to say ‘I’ll go to him’ and took off after Rabbit, calling his name, but unable to quite catch him.

Rabbit came to skidding halt before the pad-locked sixth-floor basement room and using all his strength wrenched the door from its hinges, tossing it aside as if it were a playing card. The door clanged and echoed through the corridor and Rabbit stared into the darkened lab. The chalkboard had been wiped of all but the faint words “see you in 588 years” written in Peter Walter’s loose, elegant script in the bottom-left corner. Everything was neat and in place. He stepped through the doorway just as The Spine charged around the corner, but the devastated look on Rabbit’s face slowed his pace. His older brother trudged to a chair and gripped the wooden back to support himself.

            “What did I do?” Rabbit asked the stillness. “What _didn’t_ I do?” He turned to The Spine with tears flowing down his copper cheeks. “Why did she go, The Spine? She must have known that she couldn’t return! Half a millenia... Damn it!” Rabbit picked up the chair and threw it half-heartedly against the concrete wall. It clattered but did not break. “I’ll be here, but she’ll be...

            “Rabbit...” he began but could not find the words to soothe him.

By this time Peter Walter I had arrived, having taken the elevator. He frowned as he noted the door and chair in disarray and reached into the inside pocket of his lab coat. He retrieved an envelope and held it out toward the stricken robot. “Rabbit, this was left for you.”

He raised a brow and looked from the letter to his creator.

“For what it’s worth, we tried to stop her. She charged in, shoved this into my hand, said she was sorry and...”

With shaking hands, Rabbit snatched it from him, tore the side of the envelope and tapped out the letter which he read to himself. _“Dearest Pappy Rabbit. I know you’re probably very upset with me right now. I am very upset with myself as I write you this letter. I can barely keep my pen on the page. I am going to be with my father, Petra and the lady-bots you’ve told me so much about. I’m not sure it’s the right place for me, but I just don’t feel as though I belong in this world. You and Spine and Jon are the only ones who’ve ever really cared for me and I dread having to spend my life under a roof where the heads of house treat me as though I don’t exist. I will never forget you. I’m sorry, but I have to go. Love, Your “Honey Bee”, Melissa.”_

            Rabbit’s mouth opened and a low moan started to build. This was suddenly cut short as the smallest automaton rushed into the room and threw his arms around his brother. “I just heard!” The Jon cried. “Oh, Rabbit! Oh! It’s just so terrible!” he shrieked. Peter Walter turned away and put a hand to his face. The Spine stepped up and rather than make excuses or try to calm The Jon down, he clapped a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder.

            “It is terrible. But we’re here, Rabbit. We’re here for you.”

            Rabbit threw his arms around both robots and hugged them tightly. “I know,” he said, burying his head between both of their shoulders. “I know.”

 

.x. Present Day...

            Hatchworth sniffled, pulled The Spine’s handkerchief from his shirt pocket and blew his nose loudly into it. The Spine rolled his eyes and patted Hatchworth on the back.

            Steve pushed his chair back and stood, stretching. “Man, that was a seriously sad story, Spine.”

            “And it keeps on being sad for Rabbit, like it was earlier.” The Spine nodded and stood as well. “That’s why we try not to mention her name. It tends to set him off.”

            “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Michael said. “We play “Honey Bee” at every show! How does that song, as sad as it is, and knowing who it’s about, not set him off?”

            The Spine smiled. “Because that song is his therapy. The lyrics he originally wrote for her were upbeat and happy, about how Rabbit felt about her as a child--his child. When she left, she made a very adult decision, so he changed the lyrics to what they are today. Hatchworth, you’ve heard Rabbit talk about this before, I’m sure. He said that he learned from Petra Walter that humans feel both love and loss and that sadness is actually a reminder of happy memories. He learned that you can’t have one without the other. Right now, he’s very sad because the memory of losing Melissa caught him off guard, but he’ll be alright soon.”

“I think I know how we can be a sort of therapeutic aid in this instance,” Hatchworth said brightly. “Would it be alright, The Spine?” he asked. Late-afternoon sun broke through the clouds and struck the chandelier, casting sparkles around the room. The Spine nodded and the three of them followed him out of the dining room.

 

.x.

            The basement lab door stood open and Rabbit sat facing the wall. His vest was damp with oil tears and he hiccuped a little with exhaustion. He heard their footsteps approach for several minutes and his senses began to return to him. His eyes focused on his right hand, laying in his lap. Cradled in his palm was a thin, dented, metal calling-card case, opened to reveal a torn photograph of a little girl in a white pinafore. Her black eyes stared back at him. Rabbit closed the case and brought it to his lips before hiding it once more deep in his heart. He wiped his face with his sleeve. Feet shuffled as they came to a stop at the door and a soft, metallic whirr emanated from The Spine’s guitar as he placed his hands on its neck. The first dozen or so notes of the song reverberated in Rabbit’s core and he took a deep breath. Without having so much as to think about it, Rabbit began to sing.

_“You didn't have to look my way. Your eyes still haunt me to this day. But you did. Yes, you did. You didn't have to say my name, ignite my circuits and start a flame. But you did... Oh, turpentine erase me whole (cause I) don't want to live my life alone. (Well I) was waiting for you all my life... Oh... Why... Set me free, my... Honey Bee. Honey Bee.”_

            Rabbit stood and smiled appreciatively. His friends joined in with their harmonies.

_“You didn't have to smile at me. Your grin's the sweetest that I've ever seen. But you did. Yes you did. You didn't have to offer your hand - cause since I've kissed it I am at your command. But you did... Oh, Turpentine erase me whole. I don't want to live my life alone. I was waiting for you all my life. Oh... Why... Set me free, my... Honey Bee. Honey Bee.”_

 

.x.

            On the other side of the rift an old woman sat in a wooden chair next to a blackboard with “see you in 588 years” written in chalk in fine Victorian cursive, faded as to be nearly illegible. A smallish, copper, boy automaton stepped into the room and gently nudged her shoulder.

            “Are you sleeping, Miss Melissa?”

            “Hm?” the old woman opened her eyes. “Not yet. I’m tired, though. I think it’s time I go see my mom and dad.” She uncurled her gnarled hand in her lap and looked one last time at a torn and faded photograph of a robot in a straw pork pie hat. “And if I’m lucky, maybe, one day, you too, Pappy.”

 

.x.

_“Hello Goodbye, twas nice to know you, how I find myself without you, that I'll never know. I let myself go. Hello Goodbye, I'm rather crazy and I never thought I was crazy, but what do I know? Now you have to go.”_

 

.x. END

"Honeybee" Music & Lyrics by Christopher Bennett


End file.
